Trouble is a Friend
by TheGreySpecies
Summary: The Potter children discover something new everyday; interesting things such as a enigmatic brown liquid, intriguing bags, and the exclusive function of a car. Small moments in the Potter household. H/G or Cannon Pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Thank goodness, I don't own the Potter children, much less the entire Harry Potter series. ;) D'aw, who am I kidding? I would love to.

I'm back, again, with a family fanfic; I hope you enjoy taking a peek into the Potter household. :D

* * *

"What do you s'pose it is?" A small red-haired girl asked her two raven-haired brothers.

The father of the household, who had just been sitting where his three children now sat, sipping his cup taciturnly, had been called back to his department urgently, hardly having time to bid his children farewell as they ate their breakfast. This action, however, was hardly a good one, especially when one left three mischievous children alone in the kitchen.

But if one would ask the Head of the Auror Department why he would leave without a simple "behave", he would bluntly and abruptly reply, "It's a lost cause." In fact, one would expect a broken glass as soon as the father slammed the door.

He seemed to be the only one they would listen to, yet they also loved him because he would indirectly encourage them with meaningless words such as "impressive" or "cool" after a successful prank. Although — with good measures, of course — complimenting them only when he was absolutely confident that his wife's fierce glare was thankfully absent.

And so, consequently — and indirectly — Harry Potter had left his troublesome children with their current argument.

The Potter children were sitting down beside each other, with the boys sandwiching their sister. They were sitting with only their eyes peeking out above the table: two chestnut and one emerald. The three of them had their eyes fixed on the steaming cup that their father had abandoned in his hurry.

"Well, we won't know unless we take a peek," The eldest — James — whispered, his chocolate eyes swiveling from his siblings to the cup.

"But won't Dad be mad?" The youngest brother — Albus — whispered back, his eyes expressing the fear he had at getting caught; out his siblings, he was the most rational, yet his mischievousness was hidden instead of outwardly shown. Albus didn't like to be the deer in the headlights.

His other two siblings snorted as James replied, "Please, Dad hardly gets mad at anything. And besides," he continued while Albus rolled his eyes, "if he _does_ get mad, then we'll let Lily do all the talking; right, Lily?" James asked, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

Out of the three siblings, Lily was the best liar; she knew exactly how to twist a story around, and most of the time, she would cause the trouble, yet blame it on her brothers, and it did work sometimes. She would be a great spy with her constant false innocence.

Lily nodded at her brother, her eyes wide as it stared at the cup, wondering just what was her father drinking.

Albus shook his head exaggeratedly yet complied; they wouldn't ever listen to him.

"Brilliant!" James exclaimed, cautiously glancing around for their mother. She had been so exhausted that she had made them breakfast and had thrown herself back onto the bed like a rag, trusting Harry with the children. Trusting Harry Potter with children was a sin, apparently.

James pushed the steaming cup towards him while his siblings peeked over his shoulder to eye the contents. It was brown.

"Is that —" Lily breathed, her freckled features twisting into an expression of disgust, "mud?"

Her similarly freckled brothers expressed looks of outrage at her comment; gaping at her, Albus said, "Dad wouldn't drink mud! That's disgusting!"

"Then why is it brown?"

"Mud is not the only thing that's brown, Lily." James replied in a matter-of-fact tone, rolling his eyes at his sister's foolishness.

"What is it, then?" Lily crossed her tiny arms and pinned her older brother with a smug look.

"Erm —" James stuttered, startled at this question; he attempted to compose himself and look smart, "Well — I can't really tell; I have to taste it first," he threw her an innocent smile, gladly draining the look of smug on her face.

"Do you s'pose it's poisonous?" Albus whispered, his freckled face morphing into a look of worry.

"What is wrong with you two?" James said, outraged by their theories, "_Dad_," he emphasized, "was drinking it! Why would it be poisonous? As far as I know, Dad is still alive!" He glared at Albus.

Albus, however, didn't back down; instead, he met his older brother's glare with one of his own.

"Mummy always said that drinks can go bad."

"Bad, not poisonous."

"If it goes bad then it's poisonous."

"That's only if it's been out for more than a week!"

"How would you know, anyway? Mummy told _me _that."

"She didn't need to tell _me_ that because I'm smarter than you, and I know more."

Unbeknownst to the two bickering boys, Lily had reached towards the cup, drawing it towards her without the slightest sound. Not a fan of interruptions, she lifted the cup towards her lips, took a small sniff, and stole a sip.

Lily crinkled her button nose as she failed to acknowledge its high temperature; the brown liquid burned its way down, yet her features brightened up considerably as she turned her attention towards the taste; she cried out:

"Wow!"

Her brothers nearly jumped out their seats as they heard their sister's cry.

"What?"

Lily grinned, her teeth like tiny pearls, and her chocolate eyes twinkling hysterically. She pushed the cup towards James, who looked even more startled at this behavior.

"James, you've got to taste it! It's so good!"

"You tasted it, already?" James gaped at his sister, his freckled face expressing his approval.

"Yes!" Lily cried out again, causing Albus to wince, but despite his disapproval, his curiosity won the round this time.

"How was it?"

"Heavenly." she stated, grinning at him in a way that made Albus question her sanity. Just then, James had stole a sip, and Lily eagerly awaited for it to sink in. When it did, his face had brightened up exactly like his sister's.

"This is amazing!"

"Yeah, I know!"

"Al, you've got to try this!"

James slid the still steaming cup of brown liquid towards his younger brother. Albus glanced at his siblings' grinning countenances, and hesitated.

"Are you sure?"

"C'mon, Al, what's the worst that can happen?" James asked exaggeratedly, running a hand through his coal-black hair.

"We could get in trouble."

"If we do," interrupted Lily, lifting her chin up, "then it'll be worth it," Albus lifted up an eyebrow, "C'mon, Al, no one's here, anyway; taste it first, then worry about trouble later."

Albus determined his siblings' honesty, yet they seemed to grow gradually jumpy, and they started pounding the table with their tiny fists as they cheered for him. Albus sighed, and finally, confirmed a decision.

"Alright."

Lily and James grinned happily.

Albus lifted up the cup with trembling fingers, and took a careful sip. It took him a moment to process what he had just drank, before a grin — identical to the ones his siblings were sporting — forced its way through his freckled features.

"This — This is —" Albus struggled to find a word to describe its wonderful taste; his siblings laughed, "I want more," Albus stated bluntly, taking another sip.

"Don't forget about me!" James cried.

"Hear, hear!" Lily said, pounding her fists on the table.

And so, the Potter children each exchanged sips from the steaming cup of the enigmatic brown liquid until they were interrupted by James, who had a frown sketched on his spotted features.

"Hang on," he said, holding the cup between his hands and staring down at it, "Why didn't anyone tell us about this, anyway? I mean, it's just a drink."

"Maybe Dad forgot," Albus suggested.

"Forgot?" James's frown deepened, "He was sitting right next to us."

"And you didn't ask him," Lily said, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"Come off it, how would I know?" James cried out indignantly.

"You could've smelled it," Albus said, siding with his sister.

James gaped at his siblings, groaned, and muttered, "Sod off."

"Not until you give us some more," Albus mumbled, scowling and pursuing his lips.

"It's finished," James whispered softly, hoping that they didn't hear him, yet the other two heard him distinctly.

"WHAT?" They shouted loudly and James winced; he also felt shocked that it was done so soon.

"Get some more!" Lily bellowed, ignoring Albus who was trying to calm her down in case their mother woke up.

"How — where?" James shrank in his chair and slid it backwards in an attempt to escape the crazed look in his siblings' eyes.

"I dunno! Where did Daddy get it from, anyway?" Lily said, gesturing wildly, gradually growing hysterical.

"You mean, where did _Mummy_ get it from?" Albus said, holding his finger out in front of him. James and Lily glanced at each other for a split second before looking away, shaking their heads.

"So, what are you saying? We should ask Mummy?" Lily asked, placing her hands on hips, and pinned her emerald eyed brother with a challenging glare.

"No!" Albus responded indignantly, "If Dad didn't say anything about that drink, then maybe it's because we're not allowed to drink it. So we can't ask Mummy."

"Whatever."

Albus huffed.

"Let's search for it, yeah?" James asked, a mischievous grin creeping back to his face.

"Yeah," Albus and Lily agreed at once.

And so, the Potter children tore the kitchen to pieces as they searched for another cup of the brown liquid.

"I wonder if it's in there," Lily said wondrously, eyeing the top counter.

"Well, don't just stand there," James reproved, bringing a chair over to his sister as Albus crawled in a small counter, chucking useless things out, "Get up there and search."

"Alright, alright," Lily whined, climbing onto the chair muttering, "No need to get your wand in a knot."

Making sure that Lily was busy, James padded over to one of the counters, climbed on top of it, and situated himself on one of the countertops, looking for the mysterious brown liquid.

After a few minutes of searching, James finally shouted, "I found it!" Causing Lily to nearly fall off and Albus to bang his head on the roof of the counter. They both whirled around to find James pointing at a jug sitting innocently on the stove.

All three grinned at the sight of the teasing liquid, and they took their seats at the table again as if nothing had changed; indeed, nothing had changed about the children, but one would spot the definite change of the kitchen. In fact, if their mother were to walk in at that very moment, she would most likely reverse, and return back to sleep as if nothing had ever disturbed her dream world.

So preoccupied in their drink that the children failed to notice the front door of the house creaking open as a tall raven-haired man peeked his emerald eyes into the house. The man — or the father — looked around the house amazedly before entering, startled at its enigmatic silence.

If anyone were to ask him what he would expect when he got home, he would respond with a pile of rubble, and animals that he called children.

The father felt an overwhelming amount of pride sink through him — his children had finally behaved without anyone reproving them, and they had left the house in one piece. He felt the tranquility sink in as he treaded towards the room that he had last left them in, slowly creaking the door open and — tranquility be damned!

"What the _hell_?" Harry breathed out as he caught sight of the room that was — once upon a time — called a kitchen.

Harry's children jumped out of their seats, their chairs falling behind them, gaping at their father; they didn't hear him come in. Their father — in turn — gaped at the kitchen, his mind immediately flooding with concern for his _wife_. Oh Merlin, what would _she_ say to this?

"Daddy! Dad!" Harry's children cried out at once, sprinting towards him, yet he couldn't bring himself to greet them like he usually did; they all stayed on the ground this time.

"Daddy, we found this wicked brown stuff —"

"And Lily thought it was mud —"

"But James said we should try it —"

Through his shocked and worried mind, Harry attempted to place all the pieces of the puzzle together; he frowned. At sighting their father's frown, the children immediately misunderstood it as a disapproved one, and they immediately hushed up.

"Erm — er," Harry stuttered, attempting to form a single coherent sentence, "Wha —?" he shook his head, pinched his nose, adjusted his glasses, and tried again, "What brown stuff?" He finished, looking down at his demons.

"The one that you were drinking," Lily said, flashing at her father a relieved smile with her hands crossed behind her back while rocking on her heels.

James, who was also relieved that his father was not angry, padded towards the table, grabbed the now empty cup, and held it up for his father to see, grinning.

Harry, after a moment of revelation, appeared even more startled — terrified even — at the sight of the cup. Now it was _his _fault for sure.

Noting his father's widened eyes, Albus tugged on his father's work robes, drawing his father's attention towards him, asked, "Dad, what _is_ that, anyway?"

Desperately attempting to avoid answering that question, Harry glanced around for an escape from this soon-to-be asylum, and said, still stuttering, "I — erm — er — " and then it dawned on him, "Ask Mum, alright? Because I've got to — er — over-time! — yes — well — " he turned toward them, placing a kiss to each of their heads; after all, it wasn't _really_ their fault, he was the one who had left the cup, "Bye!"

The children watched sadly as he walked — particularly ran — out of the door; they mumbled their farewells and shrugged before stomping back towards their respected rooms to occupy themselves.

* * *

After about a half an hour, a flaming-haired woman descended the stairs clutching her forehead, squinting against the sun's bright luminosity, and it was good thing that her head was already flaming; otherwise, she would have to light her own head on fire first.

The woman — like her husband — was startled at the sight of the spotless house; in fact, it partially _shone _with elegance.

A relieved smile carved her weary features as she took careful steps towards the kitchen to prepare her family's lunch. Through her lethargic mind, one thought seemed to scream viciously at her: where the _hell_ was Harry?

She scowled deeply; Merlin, if he wasn't in the — Ginny gaped — _k__itchen_?

She had finally reached the kitchen, had opened the door carelessly before gaping when she caught sight of the shards of broken glasses, the opened counters, the spilled contents, and she failed to notice that her features were hastily growing a deep shade of scarlet.

And, suddenly, her eyes zoomed to the only jug and cup that were left unharmed in the process. She remembered handing her good-for-nothing _husband_ that bloody cup, but glancing at it, she saw that it was empty, and if Harry wasn't there, then who would gulp that entire jug of —

"Coffee," She breathed, before growling loudly when it dawned on her.

"HARRY!"

Unbeknownst to Ginny, the children had been standing outside the kitchen door when they heard her footsteps; they had simply wanted to ask her just what that brown liquid was, but now they had their answer.

"So that's what it was," Albus said, turning towards his grinning siblings, and all three of them crept back into their rooms until their mother calmed down. After all, numbing the pain for a while will only make it worse when you finally feel it.

* * *

**A/N:** Hehe. I always imagined for Harry to be a bit more like Arthur as a father, just that Harry might be a bit more stressed than the others; therefore, having his temper rising. The children are really young, Lily is 6; Albus is 8; James is 9. :D

Would y'all like some more oneshots about the Potter family, or would you prefer it to end, and that's all?

A cup of coffee for every review; although, I do prefer a long one, but a cup of coffee to any review, nevertheless. Bye!


	2. Chapter 2

**Trouble is a Friend: Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Head of the Auror Department, nor do I own anything related to him. :3 You can decide which Head Auror I'm talking about.

Also, there's a new character in this chapter, not an OC — oh, well, you'll see. ;)

* * *

"Alright, I think that's enough," A red-haired woman scolded as she attempted to conceal the flaring temper that was slowly swallowing her insides; the children would never behave. At times, she envied her husband; if he so much as muttered they would be as silent as bats.

The fiery-headed woman was not the only one irritated by the immutable roguishness of the children. In fact, the other person was currently standing in the center of the living room, looking for all the world, like a person who genuinely did not want to be there; his name was Teddy.

The causes of the irritation of the two were currently circling around the living room with Teddy in the center, singing and laughing a tune that gradually grew louder with every skip they took.

"Teddy's got a girlfriend! Teddy's got a girlfriend!" The children sang, forming a choreography around Teddy, moving from one sibling to the other by the elbow. For example, James would hook his elbow into Lily's, dancing around in a circle, before switching to Albus's and repeating the action while Lily skipped around them.

"Big deal!" Teddy bellowed, annoyed now; the Metamorphmagus glared at his "god-siblings" as they continued to exacerbate him, his hair turning a burning shade of red with every syllable. They, in turn, sang even louder, and it was just their luck that they did not have any neighbors.

"Ginny," Teddy whined as he caught the woman's eyes with a melancholy look, silently beseeching her to stop this madness.

"I'm sorry, Teddy, but they aren't listening to me," Ginny said contritely. In all honesty, she was not giving it her best effort; she had to admit, it was a bit amusing to watch the capricious colorful features of her godson.

The teen sighed exasperatedly; he supposed that he would just have to endure the children's teasing. He watched as Ginny gave him one final glance of sympathy, and stalked back to the kitchen. Teddy pouted; he stomped towards the sofa in front of the serene fireplace, threw himself onto it, and placed his palms over his ears in an attempt to placate himself. Mission failed.

Suddenly, the singing stopped as the children stared around for their victim of torment, and they found him sitting on the couch; they — much to Teddy's irritation — moved over next to him, and began their acts of torment — again!

The two brothers sat on either side of him while Lily sat in front of him, knelt down onto the floor, with her elbows resting on each of his knees, staring at him through Ginny's eyes.

"So, tell us all about her," James pleaded, leaning his head close to Teddy, lowering his voice to a whisper, and glancing around for "spies" who might be eavesdropping.

"Yeah," Albus exclaimed, immediately agreeing with his brother; this was absurdly strange. Albus rarely agreed with anything his older brother said, "Is she pretty?"

"She better be." James threatened, causing Teddy to gape and stutter, "Excuse me?"

"Well, we don't want our — erm," James attempted to look for the right title, "God-sister-in-law," he said, looking dazed, "to look like a troll." he finished, flashing a winning smile at his godbrother.

"She is _not_," Teddy retorted, looking outraged, eying the three of them, but for some unknown reason, Lily was uncharacteristically silent, "ugly. And she does _not_ look like a troll either."

"You're only saying that 'cause she's your _girl_friend," Albus said, looking somewhat irritated, "Show her to us." He commanded, his emerald eyes gleaming and lips pouting, as if betrayed that Teddy had not informed them of such a massive twist in his life.

"Yeah!" James agreed, nodding and looking at Lily for some back-up. No matter what happened, Lily would always be his partner-in-crime; she was certainly easy to persuade, not like Albus at all. He was disappointed at the lack of response he was getting from his younger sister; in fact, she had a dreamy look on her face as she stared at Teddy.

"Erm, Lily?" Teddy said, also noting Lily's unwavering stare; he fidgeted on his place on the sofa, uncomfortable now. The boys were all staring at her, and then, suddenly, she breathed softly, "Are you going to marry her?"

The boys all expressed looks of tremendous disgust at that comment, shouting all at once, "Yuck!"

"What?" Lily sat up suddenly, glaring at the boys, "That's what everyone does when they're in love!"

"You've been reading too much rubbish, young lady," Teddy reproved, blushing intensely, "I'm fifteen, and I haven't even _known_ her for long."

"You're dating someone you don't know?" James asked, gaping at Teddy, his mind not registering his godbrother's stupidity; how in the world can anyone date someone they don't know?

"No!" Teddy exclaimed, gradually growing frustrated, "I — I mean — I _do_ know her, but I want to get to know her _more_ — and — oh, I don't even know _why_ I'm telling you this, you wouldn't understand," he muttered, sinking back against the sofa, "You're too young."

James looked offended, "Hey, I'm smart, of course I understand! I'm nine!"

"You're old, then?" Lily interjected, staring at James challengingly now.

"Old enough to be a Grand-Dad?" Teddy also teased, brightening up considerably as he back-fired at James.

James glared as Albus snickered and said, "Wow, you must be older than Mummy and Dad."

James pouted, looking frustrated at the sudden turn of the subject, huffed, and retorted, "At least I'll be old enough to tell you lot what to do. Ha!" He stuck his tongue out at them before crossing his arms, leaning back against the sofa, and smiling smugly.

Teddy, in turn, rolled his eyes amusedly while Albus interrupted, "What's her name, anyway, Teddy?" He finished, looking at Teddy curiously.

"Why should I tell you?" Staring down at Albus's green eyes that he inherited from Harry, "You're just going to keep teasing me."

"Ah, we hurt his feelings," James said in a mock-contrite tone, recovering quickly, and bat his eyelashes at Teddy, causing Lily and Albus to elicit a small snigger.

"Poor Teddy," Albus said in a semi-sympathetic tone; Teddy glared at the two brothers, silently vowing to be around when they had _their_ girlfriends.

"Does she have red hair," Lily said, startling the boys, and smiling serenely, looking shockingly like Luna with her elbows on Teddy's knees and her hands cupping her freckled face, supporting her head, "like me?"

"If she looks anything like you," James said, examining his chewed finger-nails, "Then I'll deny ever having anything to do with you, Teddy."

"Excuse me?" Lily cried, sitting up straight as her glare grew fiercer, "What's wrong with looking like me?"

"We see you everyday, Lily," Albus said, rolling his eyes; Teddy attempted to stifle his laughter, covering his face with his shirt, "We're sick of seeing your face —"

"_Every_ —" James said, shrinking into the sofa, "_Day_." He shuddered.

Lily, now looking like a tiger, grabbed a book that was sitting innocently beside her and hurled it towards her oldest brother. James yelped, "Are you mad?"

"Well, you see me everyday, I'm sure you'd know."

James gave her a disgusted look, and glanced away, grumbling. He didn't know that he was glancing away from her now-innocent countenance to see Albus's smug features. James looked outraged; how come she didn't hit Albus as well? James hurled the same book at Albus, causing the latter to elicit a yelp. There, now they were even.

"Hey!" Ginny yelled from her place in the kitchen, "Are you lot behaving?"

"Yes, Mummy!" They echoed at once.

Teddy, attempting to halt the conflict between the siblings, said, "No, she's not a red-head — sorry, Lils." Lily looked downcast at this; Teddy nudged her playfully with his knee, and she smiled back half-heartedly.

"So, can we please drop this?" Teddy asked, hoping they said yes, but with these children, well, he already knew the answer to that.

"No way!" They shouted at once, and Teddy winced.

"Tell us more!" Albus demanded.

Teddy was just about to scold them for prying until they heard the front door creak open, and he had never been happier at the announcement of Harry's arrival; he certainly had brilliant timing. He just hoped — prayed — that the distraction of the children's father would make them forget this whole mess.

"Daddy! Dad!" The three children sprinted towards the front door to greet their father, but Teddy stayed; the days that he used to greet Harry at the door were long gone, but it didn't mean he had not missed them, it just meant that he had grown up.

Teddy heard a deep voice asking the children about their day, but he froze at their absurd response.

"Daddy! Did you know—"

"That Teddy — our Teddy —"

"Has a _girlfriend_!"

Teddy gaped then scowled as he heard the father let out an amused chuckle, and from Teddy's place, he saw a raven-haired man emerge from the hall-way with his three mischievous children tailgating him, and bombarding him with "exciting" news. Harry came into view; he had the immutable exhausted look on his face, yet his eyes shone with happiness at returning home to a family.

But there was something peculiar about him today; he had a strap of a bag hooked onto his left shoulder, and Teddy wondered what it was. The best thing about living with Harry was that he made life interesting, bringing something new with him everyday. Harry — catching Teddy's curious gaze — smiled similarly like his children when they hid a joke between themselves.

"Hey, Ted," Harry greeted warmly, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair.

"Harry!" Teddy exclaimed, flattening his hair. "You only did that 'cause you're jealous that I use a comb."

Harry laughed in return, and Teddy nervously glanced up at him, "So, you heard the news . . ."

"How could I not?" Harry said, gesturing to the smirking children; they were downright _evil_, "Come to think of it, my ear-drums are sore." he said, causing Albus and James to snicker taciturnly; Harry mock-glared at them.

"Isn't it cute?" Lily asked dreamily, clutching her father's work robes as she leaned onto his leg. Teddy scowled.

"I'm not a fairy-tale, Lily."

"Yeah," said James, ever-the-pompous one, "He's not a fairy, his girlfriend is." His eyes were gleaming mischievously.

Teddy glared at him while Harry cleared his throat, causing James immediately to hush up; Teddy smirked while Albus interrupted.

"Dad?" Albus said, looking up to identical green eyes.

"Hmm?"

"Why're you carrying a bag? Is there something in it?"

"Oo, is it presents?" James asked, jumping up and down excitingly.

"Maybe."

Lily squealed happily, and the three siblings started skipping around their amused father. He observed them through his round glasses with his hands in his pockets — looking so casual that one might find it suspicious — before he decided to crush their excitement, "I'm not telling, though."

Teddy watched amusedly as they froze and gaped at their father, yet he, also, seemed curious. Harry was watching them all closely for reactions; he was clearly enjoying himself.

"Not until your mother gets here," Harry declared, looking around for his wife.

"Kitchen!" The four said at once, eager to discover what was in the bag. They followed Harry towards the kitchen.

Entering the kitchen, they found Ginny leaning against the counter, wand up, and reading a dreadfully long parchment that even Hermione would envy. She glanced up at the usual sight of her family and smiled warmly as Harry walked over to her to kiss her cheek. She, too, glanced curiously at the bag still hooked up on her husband's shoulder.

"You're not upset, are you?" Harry asked suddenly, scanning her face for a hint of frustration, and leaning against one of the counters.

"I might be," she said, smiling roguishly, "Why?"

"Not the usual greet, that's all."

"There're more important things in life besides greeting you, you know." She smiled mischievously as he failed to look outraged.

"I'm offended."

"Can we see what's in the bag, already?" James interrupted, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly; he had his arms crossed.

Ginny glanced at Harry who had a relaxed expression on his face, as if he had already predicted their reactions beforehand, and said, "Why_ did_ you bring a bag, anyway?" She finished, shaking her head, and waving her wand to shut off the stove and roll up her parchment.

Harry glanced up at her, his emerald eyes shining brighter as he struggled to stifle his — laughter? The others glanced at each other as he moved towards the dining table, drawing the family over like a magnet.

"An assignment," he said simply; he set his bag down abruptly onto the table with a thud, and the others had never looked more curious. They all leaned around him, while Ginny and Lily leaned onto his arm with the former whispering threateningly into his ear, "This better not be anything dangerous."

"It's not," Harry reassured calmly, turning around to stare at them face-to-face, and they were shocked to see a serious expression on his face, "Alright, listen _closely_." The children — Teddy included — nodded.

"I've got an assignment I've got to do for work and _no one_," he glanced pointedly at James, "is to_ touch_," now looking at Albus, "or _open_," Lily, "the bag," settling his gaze upon Teddy, who looked outraged at the pointed look, yet Harry didn't break it.

They all gaped; they had not been expecting that. They had been waiting to see what was in the bag.

"If that's the case," Ginny said irritatingly; she didn't appreciate that much either. She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Harry, "then chuck it in your office."

"I can't." was the only response she got.

"Why not?"

"It's an assignment."

Ginny huffed; Harry flashed her a grin before turning towards the children. The children were glancing at each other daringly; the challenge had already started. Things were going to turn ugly — fast.

"What happens if we touch it?" This came from James, attempting to look composed and less suspicious.

"I'm not sure."

"WHAT?" They all exclaimed.

"But — then — how — how are you going to leave it here? What if it isn't safe?" Teddy asked; he couldn't believe that Harry — the overprotective father — could ever leave his family in a potentially harmful situation.

"It's safe."

The most frightening display, however, was Ginny, who had turned a deep shade of scarlet at her husband's simple responses. They just didn't make any sense!

"I'm not risking it," Ginny declared, folding her arms, and pinning Harry to the spot with her hazelnut eyes; he, in turn, did not meet her eyes, "It's not staying here."

"Alright."

Ginny was stunned by the casual response; she had thought that Harry was going to start arguing with her. The children were unable to stifle their laughter, eliciting an echo of giggles at their father's — or, in Teddy's case, godfather's — worded responses.

Ginny moved towards the bag, and eyed it wryly. She reached a hand towards it, but her hand was frozen; so much for trying to look intimidating. Harry was currently chewing on a thumbnail; his eyes were watering as he attempted to stifle his own laughter.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked, proving to irritate her.

"How would I know if it's cursed or not?"

No response.

Ginny glowered at Harry murderously; he was smirking and staring at the ceiling with feigned interest, his face screaming, "I know something you don't."

Ginny lowered her hand, slamming it on the table whilst breathing heavily. She turned away and walked over to the counter, grabbed her wand, and yelled: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

She was hoping to levitate the bag so she could wipe that smirk off Harry's face; it didn't work. The bag stayed sitting innocently, and Harry looked hysterical now. He had bent down towards his knees, shaking tremendously. The children looked amazed at the powerful bag; it urged them to open it now more than ever.

Ginny, utterly furious now, had grabbed a wooden spoon and was attempting to hit Harry over the head with it, but he had grabbed her wrists, preventing this while laughing. The children were also laughing as they watched the amusing show.

"Tell — me — if — it's — cursed!" Ginny emphasized, attempting to hurl the wooden spoon at Harry with each syllable, but he had a strong grip on her wrist.

"You tell me," Harry said suddenly, startling Ginny into a state of confusion; she froze, setting her hand down, "How would_ you_ know it was cursed?" He gave her a strange look. Ginny frowned.

"Trust you with it?"

Harry grinned and said, "You'd be a great Auror, you know."

"Brilliant. When can I sign up?"

Harry snorted, yet refused to say another word, frustrating them all by stretching and yawning as if their irritation had exhausted his ability to speak, then abruptly and suddenly, he declared, "I'm tired; I think I'm going to bed."

They were all taken aback by this response; Harry _never_ slept at ten at night; in fact, he hardly slept at all. He would occupy himself with anything, preferring to spend time with the family, finish his work, or lounge in his office, but this came as a surprise. He was clearly up to something, and they would only confirm their suspicions if they did something about that bag.

All five of the occupants of the room watched Harry stride up the stairs and completely out of sight before they diverted their attention back to themselves, or in Ginny's case, the bag.

James, however, was eyeing his mother, pondering whether or not she would approve if he merely stole a peek, just a small peek, into the bag. Ginny was not meeting his eyes, though. She had her eyes fixed upon the bag.

"Mummy?" James asked; his eyes were gleaming with admiration as he stared at his mother, drawing the other's attentions.

"I will do this only once," Ginny said, now surprisingly austere, staring at the four with the same gleam in her eyes as her oldest son, "But how about we take a peek into that bag?"

The children gaped while Teddy gasped, "Ginny!"

"But, Mummy?" Albus pleaded, looking half-awed and half-hesitant as he stared up at his mother, "Dad said that no one is to touch it."

"He didn't tell me, though, did he?" And despite himself, Albus let out the tiniest smile; she ruffled his hair in response; they were all shocked at Ginny's behavior. They had never knew she had it in her; after all, she had always been the one chiding.

"Wow, Ginny," Teddy breathed, grinning mischievously; the occupants of the room all shared the identical gleam in their eyes, "And here I was, wondering where they inherited that trait from."

Ginny smiled roguishly in response and said, "Oh, I had six brothers, not to mention the twins; it's hard to stay boring for long."

"It's hard to stay boring at all," James said, moving closer to his mother; it did not take an Albus Dumbledore to discover that James was a mother's boy through and through.

"So," Lily said curiously, "Can we see if there's any presents?" Looking up at her mother; her mother nodded, lifting Lily up to carry her while the others hurried beside her, staring at the bag.

"But Harry didn't say whether it was cursed or not," Teddy said, now growing worried as they began to dive into action.

"He said it was safe," James suggested, unable to stand still, eagerly awaiting the discovery of the contents of the bag.

Ginny frowned — agreeing with Teddy — grabbed the wooden spoon that she had used to hurl at Harry, and gently poked the bag with it. Nothing happened.

"I s'pose it _is_ safe, then," Ginny said happily, shifting Lily to her hip as she discreetly reached her hand towards the bag. No one breathed as her hand continued to make its journey toward the bag. At last, she reached it, placing the tip of her finger onto it. Nothing happened.

They all grinned victoriously as James and Albus skipped around happily; they can finally open the bag now. Ginny immediately beckoned them towards her as she placed Lily back on the floor and basically ripped open the bag, then she stopped suddenly, staring stunningly at the sight of the contents.

"What?" They all shouted in suspense; Ginny glared at their loud voices. For some reason, she looked bewildered as she took out a large brown square — box? — out of the bag, setting it down on the table. The children frowned.

"It's a box," Albus stated, furrowing his eyebrows.

"No, it's your clever brain," James said sardonically, causing Albus to glare at him.

"Is it a present, then?" Lily asked, stepping closer to it, examining it closely.

"Sure looks like a dull one," Teddy interjected; he had one brown eyebrow raised as he stared at the box; they all agreed.

Ginny was currently rubbing a spot on her face, muttering under her breath, and the children thought that Harry was a very unlucky man to reside in the same house as the now furious woman, much less still here. He was done for tonight.

"If it's just a box," Ginny said through gritted teeth, seething, "Then why the _hell_," the children let out gasps in which she ignored, "couldn't I levitate it? And he couldn't even _tell_ me, either." Throughout the entire speech, she had been zipping shut the bag, ripping the zipper in the process through her frustration.

No one muttered a word as they let her stew in her frustration. Finally, she decided to open the box, stubbornly refusing to ask Harry's permission to open it, accepting it as pay-back for her confusion. Again, no one stopped her; instead, they encouraged her. It wouldn't open, though. The children glanced at each other confusedly, still silent.

Ginny, trembling with anger, grabbed her wand again and bellowed, "Diffindo," at the box. It landed on the floor abruptly as it burst open, startled at her anger towards it. The children, however, scurried over to grab a small string of parchment floating out of the box. It landed in Teddy's hand.

"What does it say?" Albus asked; he and his siblings were jumping up and down, curious at the contents of the box. Ginny, anger forgotten, hurried over to side by Teddy, peeking over his shoulder. They were both frowning bemusedly at the small scrawl of words painted on the paper.

"It says —" Ginny said softly; the children also frowned at the next statement, "'Curiosity killed the cat.'"

They were interrupted by a roar of laughter near the door, and Harry had appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the frame of the door and holding a lengthy parchment and a single quill. He had clearly witnessed the entire scene under his Invisibility Cloak. Catching his wife's scowling eyes, he said, "I did say I had an assignment," his eyes were gleaming with laughter.

"On us?" James asked, struggling to control himself, as well. He found the reaction of the others terribly amusing.

"Well, on you lot," Harry said, nodding his head towards the children before meeting eyes with Ginny, "But I didn't expect a report about _you_, Ginny."

Ginny huffed, ignoring his last statement, "So, you used us as bait to test our curiosity?"

"Well, when you put it that way —"

Ginny growled loudly, pinning him to the spot with her murderous gaze.

The children couldn't hold in their laughter anymore; they let it fill the tension of the room as Harry announced that they could find him in his office, writing his report about the day of discovery, and left. Ginny, however, narrowed her eyes, and turned back towards the children; they, in turn, widened their eyes at her next statement.

"How 'bout a little revenge?"

Naturally — with gleaming eyes — they all agreed immediately.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I decided to continue it, anyway, 'cause I had so much fun writing it. Thanks for reading. And just an FWI, I won't be updating any of my stories for two months because I've got huge exams coming up, so I'll see y'all after January (aka: My birthday ;). :3 Oh, and one more thing: Teddy's girlfriend isn't Victorie, she's just a random girl for now. Okay, so, happy holidays! See y'all next year!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Trouble is a Friend**

**Disclaimer: **I? – I own the car only, so what do you s'pose about the rest? :P

I know I said that I wasn't going to be around until after my birthday because I'm supposedly "studying", well, with studying, there's also dawdling, and so, I found myself writing another chapter. ;) Do enjoy James's ingenious acts.

* * *

Didn't you know love could shine this bright?

Well, smile because you're deer in the headlights.

~ Owl City

* * *

Near the village of Godric's Hallow, a fairly simple house was situated next to a running river. It was a divine landscape; it contradicted the house's simplicity, but with both united, they radiated an distinctive aura of tranquility together. For now, at least.

Indeed, tranquility did not last long in the Potter household, especially when one pair of chestnut eyes were still peeking above a raven-haired boy's blanket; one of the troublesome children had awoken – the leader of them, in fact – James.

For some odd reason, his eyes would not shut. No matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to fall asleep; normally, he could do it quickly, but now, insomnia has come to play.

In fact, there _was _a reason he was still up, and it was because – in James's opinion, at least – of a rare gem in the garage; furthermore, it was the reason why James's father had come home, ecstatic, which was very unusual for the Potter patriarch. He usually came home exhausted or irritated from work, but this time, it was different. This time he had brought home the initial "Potter Car."

The "Potter Car" held a black luminosity, one that James had never seen before. It shone with perfection; no flaws, whatsoever, and James had developed an immediate fondness to its beauty. This was the reason for James's insomnia.

James let out an exasperated groan, cursing (thanks to his godfather, Ronald) the gem in the garage. He threw his comforter over his eyes, shielding them from the moon's luminous gaze; he _attempted_ to coerce himself with the consequences of the next day, yet insomnia was fighting a vicious battle. In the end . . . it emerged victorious, and James tossed his sheets and blankets to the floor, and inaudibly slipped out of his bed.

If he was anything like his brother Albus, he would fret about his parents' reactions, but he wasn't; he was James Potter, grandson of one of the first renowned Marauder; consequently, he never worried about getting in trouble. After all, trouble was merely a friend, a role model.

Without a breeze of thought, James's stubbornness beckoned him towards the door, and he quickly opened it without the slightest creak, in fact, for it had not been James's first adventure – and it definitely won't be his last. After all, it was not unusual for Harry Potter's son to be wondering around at night. Genetics play an enthralling game, doesn't it?

Cautious of waking the other dormant occupants of the house, James hurried down, shoving on his socks on his way down the hallway to mitigate the sounds of his footsteps, and to warm his feet, for it was a day after Christmas Eve.

Finally, James arrived to the garage, shoved the door open, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Whoa," James breathed out softly.

His eyes were gleaming intensely as he observed the cause of his insomnia; it looked even more stunning up close, but there was one question that he had been longing to ask his father: just what did it do?

Harry had brought the car at night, and James had been awake when his father had arrived at midnight, bringing home the "Potter Car." Harry had been excitingly explaining the car's purpose to his wife, and James – who had simply yearned for a glass of water – had spied on the entire conversation.

Did he regret it? No, not at all.

But Harry had never mentioned its function; James supposed that his mother had already had some experience with it, but James had seldom been in the Muggle world; in fact, now, he couldn't blame his grandfather's fascination with Muggle tools. They were incredible.

James grinned widely as he slowly ran his hand on the hood, mesmerized by every detail; it was wicked! He bent down to observe the tires, poking the holes in between; it was solid rock. He, then, proceeded to observe the bottom of the car, pushing himself under it with his back flat to the ground.

"Cool!" James exclaimed, not bothering to lower his voice as his eyes caught sight of the countless wires and puzzling mechanics that he could not comprehend.

The freckled-faced boy pushed himself from beneath the car, frowning. There still wasn't a specific purpose to the car; what did cars do?

He observed everything about the car, but there was nothing – in which he knew, at least – that could actually prove the car useful. James huffed; so much for getting his hopes up. He kicked the car's bumper and the car's bumper hit him back, making him hop on one foot, clutching his throbbing toes.

James growled; they were right, a book _shouldn't_ be judged by its cover, and he almost turned to walk away when his eyes caught sight of a small rectangle box settled on the side of the car. Who was messing with his dad's car?

James moved closer towards the box, and discovered that the box had a small – handle? – perched into it. The raven-haired boy reached his hand into the box, not knowing what he was doing. Indeed, he didn't, for when he tried to pull away:

"Argh!" His hand had stuck. He had pushed his hand too high up, and he couldn't pull it back. Brilliant work. For this ingenious action, a reward must be given; applaud, please.

The clever boy placed both of his feet onto the car, standing slightly sideways as he attempted to break his hand loose; in fact, it literally might be done if he pushed any harder, but once again, we must applaud the clever boy for wearing socks. Consequently, James slipped down the car, banging his head onto the door, but his hand came free as well, so that was a good sign, perhaps.

Rubbing his now bruised forehead, James's mouth fell open as his eyes caught sight of the open door inviting him into the luxurious car.

He quickly scrambled in, shutting the door behind him. James looked around, wide-eyed, all traces of sleep whisking away as if three in the morning had abruptly fused into three in the afternoon.

His eyes scanned the back seats, the comfortable chair in which he was sitting on, and the windows until his eyes zoomed to the steering wheel; it was perched in front of the seat next to James. Naturally, the mischievous boy hopped onto the seat next to him and settled down.

So this was it? This was the function of the car?

Let's let James figure it out, yes?

Fascinated, and without a single sign of cautiousness, James placed both hands onto the steering wheel, spinning it around, but he frowned when it stopped at a certain position. He set his hands down, and leaned forward to eye the puzzling buttons on the left side of the steering wheel.

And James, being – well – James, mischievously rubbed his hands together, a dazzling grin on his countenance; he cackled loudly, and began poking random buttons, dismissing the consequences.

Suddenly, the car let out an immediate alarm at one of the buttons James had pressed. He, in turn, abruptly jumped, hitting his head on the roof of the car; the car was definitely frustrated; this was the _third _time it had hurt him.

Blinded by the pain, he frantically groped around the buttons in attempt to turn off the alarm; instead, his hand had hit another button, turning on something else: the radio.

Now the car was rocking on its tires as James quickly scrambled, trying to find a halt to this absurd madness; oh, the many situations he got himself into. He pressed every button which he could reach his tiny fingers against, but he still couldn't shut it off.

Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the series of buttons, breaking several of them. He let out a gasp – not due to the buttons dangling from their wires – but at the pain in his knuckles. Merlin, it hurt.

But the noises had stopped! And James cheered.

The unruly boy remained immobile as his ears strained to detect the sounds of footsteps thundering down the stairs, yet he heard nothing, not even the sound of his breath. He let out a relieved sigh, yet there was still more to discover.

Now, the boy's chestnut eyes zoomed towards a handle on the left side of the steering wheel. Examining it closely, James noted that it had a button on the very top. Curious, James lifted his hand up to press it without the slightest hesitation, yet nothing happened.

Leaning back into his seat, James crossed his arms, frustrated, and huffed; there was clearly nothing remarkable about cars, then why was his dad so enthusiastic?

Simmering in his vexation, James failed to notice that his frustration was slowly thrilling his magic, steadily twisting the key lock; furthermore, James flew out of his seat as he heard the engine incomprehensively let out a fairly loud rumble. He hadn't woken his parents up after all, but he had certainly woken the car up.

James grinned happily in return; never had he felt so thrilled. He tested the handle again to see the results, and it moved!

"Yes!" James exclaimed, satisfied that he had finally developed a useful talent.

With the engine bobbing the boy on his seat, James scanned the car for a connection to the perplexing handle and engine; his eyes were as wide as a hawk now.

Concluding his examination of the outer shell of the inside, James crouched down under his seat, continuing his search. And find it, he did.

He found another two handles: one smaller than the other on the – floor? James frowned bemusedly; why was it on the floor, and how can an adult reach it? Especially an adult like his great cousin, Dudley; well, great was a good choice for diction.

James – ever the gallant son of a Gryffindor – reached out a tiny finger, and pressed the handle for a reaction. The reaction threw him back towards the driver's seat again, and caused him to bang the back of his head into the steering wheel. For a moment, he saw nothing but stars.

"Ugh!" James groaned painfully; he always got hurt! With slightly watery eyes, he lifted his head up, and peeked through the window; he was gob-smacked at the sight.

Indeed, when the valiant boy had pressed the handle, the car had slid forward, but James did not know that he had, actually, rammed into the wall in front of him. Again, James disregarded any further mention of damage and situated himself back onto the seat, grinning hysterically; even Albus Dumbledore's eyes couldn't have twinkled brighter than James's.

James – at last knowing how to operate a car – reached out his hand, once again, to grab the handle next to the steering wheel, and slid it further down. Then, he crouched down onto the floor (beneath the seat) and without further ado, slammed his fist into the same previous handle, and cheered.

This time, however, the car reversed, and James was thrown towards the handle, landing flat against it. Hastily, he picked his wild head back up and cautiously scanned the car. There was something peculiar about it now; something different.

Oh, the lights!

Indeed, the lights to the garage had dimmed, tossing James into a shadow of darkness. This was bad; what had happened to the lights?

Cautiously, James peeked through the window again: there were trees, a green ground, and a translucent river – wait, a river? The troublesome boy gaped at the sight of the outdoors; in fact, his house was innocently sitting a few feet away from him; it teased and guffawed at him: the obnoxious git.

Without delay, James scrambled out of the car with speed that literally threw him to the floor; he quickly heaved himself back up, and prepared to sprint towards the house, but precisely when he had circled the car with the intention of fleeing from the scene, the headlights of the car flew on, drowning James in a blinding light as he squinted.

"Well, well, well," A mocking voice greeted him – a female's, and James's heart sank to the floor, "What do we have here?"

"A deer," responded a male's voice, and the boy died inside: why does he _always_ get caught? "In the headlights."

Slowly and apprehensively, James peeked open his eyes to squint at identical sets of blazing brown eyes that were from his mother, and through his peripheral vision, he could also see another pair of piercing green eyes that were from his father (who had work in a few hours, by the way).

James had expected the familiar reaction from his mother: she had her arms crossed, and her eyes were blazing with irritation, but he hadn't expected that he would be _caught_ in the act. His father, on the other hand, bore a grimace on his weary countenance, probably because he had merely a few hours of sleep to cherish, and his own son had ruined it. James winced.

"Of all the stupid – not to mention _reckless_! – things you've done," Ginny berated in a deathly soft voice, gradually growing louder with each word, "_This_," she pointed an accusing finger at the car that was cowering behind James, "has got to be your worst."

In an attempt to lessen the intensity of her frustration, James "guiltily" bowed his head towards the grass and shifted his feet, whispering in his most contrite tone, "Sorry, Mum."

"Sorry?" Now his mother had started her usual scolding tone: yelling, "It's three in the _morning,_" she emphasized, causing James him to elicit a grimace not unlike the one his father was still expressing, "and you're awake when I _specifically _told you to go to bed! Not to mention, you've wrecked the car, and "damage" doesn't even come _close_ to describing what you did to the garage door!"

Indeed, the car, in desperate attempts to escape to the outdoors, had burst open the garage door when James had exerted enough pressure on the gas pedal; in other words, it was lying on the grass behind the cowardly car.

"That can be fixed," Harry suddenly interjected, attempting to reconcile the two; Ginny, in turn, sent him a death glare, and he hastily readjusted his glasses and looked away, suddenly finding the car tremendously interesting.

"Don't. This is entirely _your _fault to begin with!" Ginny accused, pointing a finger at her husband; he was taken aback and outraged by the sudden change of blame, and James almost chuckled at his father's facial expressions; always the peacemaker, his father.

"Wha–?" Harry said in disbelief, all traces of exhaustion vanishing from his eyes, "I'm not the one who wrecked the car."

"But you bought it, and I did tell you it was a bad idea."

"Yes, but you agreed afterwards."

Ginny glowered, and Harry looked mildly complacent. James, in turn, was enjoying the show; watching someone get in trouble when it wasn't directly their fault was comically amusing to the boy.

"Well," James's mother continued, now sounding questionably smug about something as well, "I _do_ hope you enjoy your car," Harry's eyes narrowed challengingly in return, "If it lasts, that is."

"With magic," he responded not fazed a bit, "anything does," flashing her a genuine smile, "And besides, the front and back might need a little attention, other than that, it's not that damaged, right?"

They both reverted their attention back to their troublesome oldest, and the boy was startled at the abrupt change of subject; he was enjoying the show.

James thought back to the car, but he couldn't recall any serious damage, other than some broken buttons and maybe the handle on the door, but that's it; well, that's what he thought, anyway.

"Erm," James winced again, but was momentarily distracted by the expressions of his parents: his father was now looking suspicious while his mother – well, he had never seen her look so smug, "Not much." He finished concisely, flashing them an innocent smile. At times, it worked; he just hoped it did now.

"Not much?" Harry asked, raising a coal-black eyebrow, and moving forward to examine the car for further damage.

"In James's dictionary," his mother replied, smirking pretentiously, "It means a lot."

James, in turn, was outraged by the hyperbole; after all, he hadn't done anything _that_ bad, he vehemently exclaimed, "No! I was only curious."

"At three in the morning?" James's mother asked.

"I was trying to see how it worked, that's all."

"By wrecking it?"

"It's not that damaged!"

Precisely when James had cried out that respond, the bumper of the car had fallen with a soft _thump_ to the grassy ground while Harry had been levitating the car back to the garage; Ginny tilted her head pointedly.

James huffed.

"What were you saying, Jamie?" she asked teasingly.

Her son pouted in return.

"No worries on my part, though," Ginny said smiling, and James was shocked to the core; she was not thinking of a punishment? That was virtually impossible!

"Wha –?" James exclaimed, gaping at his mother; her actions were incessantly unpredictable, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," and suddenly her smile fused into a smirk as she turned to look at her frowning husband, "That I'm not the one you should be worried about."

Finally, she winked, and James felt even more daunted as he moved forward with her to greet Harry in the garage; he attempted to hide himself behind her, out of sight. Harry was a scary man when he was angered; hence, why the children tried their best not to anger him.

It was relief, though, that he only got angry when they did something seriously wrong, but James did not know whether wrecking the car was one of them.

"So," Ginny said, leaning against the open door of the car to meet her husband's eyes; he was inside the car, "Any severe damages?"

"I wouldn't say severe," he replied, his eyes catching the barely discernible scratches; he was an Auror, after all, "But there are countless."

"Like what?" she asked, her eyes full of laughter as she switched her attention back to her son. So this was her punishment, huh? James scowled.

"Hmm, let's see," Harry said sarcastically as he exited the car; he closed the door a bit to show them the damage, and James nearly groaned exaggeratedly; oh, _why_ today, "The door's missing a handle, so I can't really close it without it being shut forever," Ginny hummed, impressed; now, he pulled the door back open to show them the inside, "The fabric of the seats are torn, all the buttons in the front are hanging from their wires, the front looks like it's been smashed against some boulder, _and_ –"

"You're not finished?"

"I found this," he concluded briskly, holding up something that looked like a boomerang in his hand. The mother and son stared blankly in return, "underneath the driver's seat."

"What's that?"

Harry, in turn, rolled his eyes, shook his head exasperatedly, and stated, "It's the brake. It stops the car."

And that was the last statement for Ginny; she collapsed into a fit of giggles at the sight of the brake out of its original position. However, James was outraged.

"I had no part in that at all!"

"Then who did?"

"I dunno, but I never touched it."

"Were you next to it?"

James frowned and said, "Well, I _might_ have been . . ."

"So you were."

"Well, I might've been . . . you know . . . crouched down . . ."

"And?"

James sighed, finding the end of the loop-hole, "Erm, I might've . . . fallen on it – but that's all!"

His parents glanced at each other; Ginny's eyes gleaming with laughter, and Harry's full of nothing but exaggeration. His mother gestured towards her oldest, and James knew that the punishment was coming, but for the first time ever, his father was now giving it out:

"No brooms for a month."

James gaped at his father; that was awful! How was he going to play Quidditch with his cousins? Quidditch was his life!

"But–"

"You poor _deer_," Ginny said in mock-sympathy, "You're the one who chose to be in the headlights."

James scowled, pouting and crossing his arms.

Well, he _had _wrecked his father's car, after all, but that didn't mean he had to appreciate his punishment. With a desire to kick something, James scanned the room for a source, and what he found fueled that desire, and he had feeling that he would take pleasure in it.

He found his little siblings' eyes peeking in from the slightly ajar door into the garage; their eyes were full of laughter, and James knew that they had witnessed the entire scene due to their mother's previous yelling.

Their eyes widened as they caught sight of their oldest brother advancing towards them; they let out small yelps, and quickly fled the scene with James on their tail.

"Gah!" James yelled, "Al! Lily! I'm gonna kill you!"

* * *

**A/N: **I confess: I know nothing about British cars, not even the slightest, so I don't really know the difference between British and American cars; all I know is that British cars' driving seat is antithetic from the American. Oh, well.

Technically, I am studying: I'm practicing my writing skills for the SAT. ;) I'll try to keep my word this time (which I have a really time doing so). It's just that if I thought of something I wanna write down, I _have _to – so, yeah. But this one came to me when the stupid DPS wouldn't let me get my license. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

I'll give you the keys to my future car if you throw in a review. Happy new year.


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